


winter screwed

by poindextears



Series: Samwell '21 Crickets [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Blind Date, Canon Universe, First Dates, Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M, Of sorts?, POV OMC, Post-Canon, SMH '21 Crickets, SMH Shenanigans, Winter Screw (Check Please!), scandalous I know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:09:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23772232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poindextears/pseuds/poindextears
Summary: “Crickets!” Louis booms, like he’s announcing a song at a kegster. “Have you thought about Screw yet?”Nando feels all the eyes at the table trained on himself, Rhodey, and Touille. Rhodey speaks for the masses. “Louis, I’m gonna keep it real with you, chief; we have no idea what you’re talking about.”(The SMH '21 freshmen get their first go at Winter Screw. Nando is still thinking about a boy he met two weeks ago.)
Relationships: Denice "Foxtrot" Ford/Tony "Tango" Tangredi, Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter, Minor or Background Relationship(s), OMC/OMC, Sebastián "Nando" Hernandez/Quinn Cooper
Series: Samwell '21 Crickets [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705795
Comments: 32
Kudos: 223





	winter screwed

**Author's Note:**

> (I realize this title has been used on, like, four different Winter Screw fics throughout OMGCP fic history. But in my defense, I did not know that fact until I scrolled through the Winter Screw AO3 tag, so here we are being basic.)  
> The next installment in the cricket series is here!!!! If you're new, the crickets are OC Samwell Class of 2021 freshmen for the Frogs' senior year. [Clicking this link](https://sincerelyreidburke.tumblr.com/tagged/oc-taddies/chrono) will lead you to every post I've made on my Tumblr about them so far.  
> When we last saw Nando, he was gay-panicking his way through a Halloween party meet-cute with a dorky theatre boy. Will they meet again?

_ 10 Days Until Winter Screw _

Team breakfast is an event.

For starters, it requires the pulling together of not one or two but three tables in the dining hall, which generally earns the hockey team dirty looks from other people who are just trying to enjoy their breakfast in peace. But then again, that’s pretty much the trademark attitude of the rest of Samwell’s population toward the hockey team in general. Nando wears this annoyance of the general population like a badge of honor. Like  _ yes, that’s us. We are the hockey team. And we are annoying. _

_ You wish you were us. _

Anyway, the table assembly is a process, and then everyone has to actually wait in line to get food. Breakfast at Commons, in Nando’s humble, food-loving opinion, is the best dining plan meal on campus, and he really never has trouble finding, like, more than enough food to eat.

So there’s something for everyone. Today is a Wednesday, AKA French toast stick day, AKA the best day of the week. Nando waits in the line for longer than usual just to get his hands on an order of the things, and then adds home fries and sausage to his tray for good measure. A cup of orange juice and also a vanilla coffee completes the plate, although he does linger by the fruit bar for a solid ten seconds trying to decide if it’s worth the effort to make a fruit salad.

He decides against it, mostly because he can see several of his teammates already waiting in line to pay. By the time he gets through the line and out into Commons’ already-crowded dining room, the three tables are together, and his usual seat between Rhodey and Nursey is open, so he slides down into it and tunes into the conversation.

“...  _ really _ hope my roommate steps up his game this year,” Louis is saying, loud and animated as always, “because last year I straight up did  _ not _ have a good time, as the kids say.”

“What happened?” Tango asks, with a mouthful of scrambled eggs, which is sort of nasty, but whatever.

Louis groans at the ceiling, like the mere memory of whatever he’s talking about is annoying. “The girl he set me up with said, and I quote, that sports are a waste of time, and she doesn’t understand why the school spends so much budget on them.”

“Bro,” Tango replies. “Why would your roommate set you up with a girl who hates sports if you play…”

Louis shrugs and points his spoon at him. “It’s one of the world’s greatest unsolved mysteries.” He pauses, then goes back to his breakfast. He’s eating dry Lucky Charms. “But I don’t have my first-year roommate anymore, so fingers crossed.”

Nando glances at Rhodey, who meets him with an expression that’s equally as lost as Nando feels. “Do  _ you _ know what they’re talking about?” Rhodey asks.

Nando shakes his head. “Not a clue, bro.”

“Okay, good.” Rhodey fist-bumps him. “Glad we’re in the same boat.”

Nando looks to Nursey, on the other side of him, who’s wearing Dex’s SMH hoodie (what’s new) and nursing (LOL) a mug of coffee. He makes a face at the drink as he takes a sip, then mumbles, “Commons coffee sucks ass.”

Dex, on the other side of him, rests an elbow on the table and asks, “Why do you keep getting it, then?”

Nursey lets off a wistful sigh. “Because,  _ William _ , where else am I supposed to get my caffeine fix for the morning?”

Dex snorts, and with a grin, remarks, “Someone’s still half-asleep.”

Nursey slumps his head onto Dex’s shoulder, as if to prove it. Nando is trying to figure out if he should ask the seniors what Louis and Tango are talking about when Louis takes matters into his own hands. “Crickets!” he booms, like he’s announcing a song at a kegster. “Have  _ you _ thought about Screw yet?”

Nando feels all the eyes at the table trained on himself, Rhodey, and Touille. Rhodey speaks for the masses. “Louis, I’m gonna keep it real with you, chief; we have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Several things happen. Hops widens his eyes in surprise; Tango and Chowder both look confused; next to Nando, Nursey mumbles, “ _ Yooo _ , we missed that?” And Louis, in true Louis fashion, slams both his hands on the table and says, “Excuse me?”

It earns them glances from other, nearby dining parties. Louis does not seem to care at all.

Dex leans forward to look at the freshmen. “No one told you guys about Winter Screw?”

“Not a soul,” Rhodey replies, and Nando shakes his head. Touille is mid-chocolate croissant, and looks unfazed.

“Oh.” Dex pauses, processes this information, and then says, “Well. Okay. We should fix that.”

“What’s Winter Screw?” Nando asks. Even the name of the concept sounds… vaguely intimidating.

“Okay,” Louis says, like he’s prepared a speech, and Dex asks him, “You got this?” He nods, and then spreads his arms out on the table. “Gather round, crickets. I’ll tell you some Samwell lore.”

“We’re already gathered,” Touille remarks.

“Shut up, rat boy. Okay, anyway.” Louis pauses for dramatic effect. “Winter Screw takes place in November. It’s not this Saturday, but next Saturday. Some people call it a dance, but it’s not really a dance. It’s more just a party. And the fun part is…” He grins diabolically. “Your roommate picks your date.”

“It’s basically like a blind date,” Ford offers helpfully. “Mandated by your roommate. The idea is they pick someone out that they think you’d hit it off with.”

“Oh…” Nando doesn’t really like the sound of this. “What if you’re, uh… not really interested in hooking up?”

“You don’t have to hook up with your date,” Ford says. “The ‘screw’ thing is kinda crude, but a lot of people just hang out.”

Whiskey snorts. Ford gives him the evil eye. “ _ Some _ people just hang out,” she amends, then looks back to Nando with all her manager mom-friend energy. “Don’t worry, Nando. There are no stipulations for what you do with your date.”

“The point is to have fun,” Louis adds.

She nods. “Exactly.”

“So…” The gears are turning in Rhodey’s head as he looks to Nando. “Does that mean I get to pick his date?”

“Oh, God,” Nando mutters.

“According to rich Samwell tradition,” Louis replies, “the answer is yes.”

Rhodey cellies in his seat. Nando is vaguely terrified, but then again— this means— “And I get to pick his?”

Louis, Hops, and Ford all nod in unison, like it’s choreographed.

Nando knows that this should be entertaining knowledge to acquire, but picking a date for Rhodey feels like a hefty task. “Oh, boy,” he mumbles into his French toast sticks.

“Bro, Rhodey—” Nursey asks, “Aren’t you pan?”

“I absolutely am, my good dude.”

“So you’ve got it easy.” Nursey elbows Nando gently. “The dating pool is literally the entire school.”

Nando shakes his head in dismay at the project ahead of him. “No, no, you don’t understand. He only dates people from Rhode Island.”

“Hey, I  _ never _ said that,” Rhodey cuts in. “I just said it’s a strong motivator.”

Nando sighs. “Same difference.”

“What if you don’t want to do it?”

The question comes from a wide-eyed Touille, who is apparently so anxious about the answer that it warrants putting down his croissant half-finished. He looks to Dex, like he’s searching for captain’s authority.

“What do you mean?” Dex asks.

“I mean,” Touille says, “what if you don’t want to have a date?”

“Oh,” Ford says, “nobody  _ has _ to do Winter Screw, Remy. It’s just a fun thing.”

“I don’t date,” Touille says in a hurry. “Do I have to tell my roommate not to pick a date out for me?”

“You could tell him, sure,” Dex replies. “Don’t worry, Touille. It shouldn’t be stressful.”

Touille exhales, picks up his croissant again, and remarks, “I do  _ not  _ need random blind dates in my life, thank you very much.”

“Yo.” Bully has been mostly quiet for the conversation, but attentive; it’s his average state of being. Now, though, he’s looking right across the table at Touille, a tentative grin on his face. “Ace gang?”

Touille knits his brows at Bully. “Sorry?”

“Ace gang?” Bully repeats, the epitome of chill. “Are you asexual?”

Touille’s confusion intensifies. “I don’t know what that means.”

“OMG,” Nando hears Nursey mumble. “Are we about to have a wholesome teaching moment?” Dex shushes him.

“Being asexual,” Bully explains, “is when you don’t feel attraction to anybody. Of any gender.”

“Oh.” Touille’s face goes through a few stages of epiphany. “There’s— there’s a word for that?”

“Yes,” Bully says. He’s grinning now, just a little. “Bro. Do you feel that way?”

Touille is quiet for a second, then nods. “I— yeah. I think I do.” Bully’s grin widens. “I mean I  _ really _ think I do. I didn’t know there was a word—”

“Bro, bring it here.” Bully offers a fist-bump across the table, and Touille accepts it with a huge, relieved-looking grin, like a longstanding mystery in his head has just been solved. It’s wholesome. Nando smiles at the scene. “Ace  _ gang _ ,” Bully affirms.

The table erupts into a brief celly for Touille’s realization. Ford high-fives him; Rhodey claps him on the back; Louis and Hops holler (which earns more judgement from other tables). Touille himself smiles at his croissant. “Thanks, guys,” he says, once the ruckus dies down. “That’s— this is cool.”

“I swear to God,” Ford mumbles, “no one on this team is a heterosexual.”

“They better not be,” Nursey remarks. “Samwell Men’s Hockey is a gays only event.”

Dex sighs like  _ why am I dating this person _ . Nursey winks at him.

Nando really loves his teammates.

*

_ 8 Days Until Winter Screw _

The roadie bus departs at seven in the morning, and Rhodey is  _ not _ awake.

It’s a long trek today, four hours up to Dartmouth, and they’re spending the night after their game. Rhodey spends the first solid two hours of the ride napping on Nando’s shoulder. It’s unintentional, but dude makes a good pillow. Who says you can’t snuggle with your friends?

He wakes for the rest-stop breakfast run, acquires a coffee, and piles back onto the bus with the rest of the team. Most people go back to sleep after that, but Rhodey puts his music on and stares out the window. The foliage has mostly all fallen, so the would-be picturesque drive up through rural New Hampshire is mostly just gray.

Around hour three, he gets restless. Nando is asleep again, and a quick glance across the aisle confirms that Touille is in the same state, while Bully sketches in a notepad in the seat next to him. Rhodey peers over the tops of the seats, but he can’t tell about anyone else, so he turns and cranes his neck over the backside.

Ford and Tango are sitting behind them, and they’re awake, having some very quiet conversation and holding hands like a bunch of romantic dweebs. “Hey, Rhodey,” Ford mumbles. “Hanging in there?”

“Yeah,” he replies, then turns himself all the way around in his seat. “Can I bug you guys for a second?”

“You aren’t bugging us,” she says.

Tango nods his agreement. “Yeah! What’s up, Rhodey?”

Rhodey lowers his voice, even though Nando is sleeping, and points to the top of his curly head. “I know who I want to Screw him with,” he whispers, “but I need you guys’ help.”

Tango and Ford nod at each other, both grinning steadily. Rhodey grins in turn.  _ It’s go time. _

*

_ 7 Days Until Winter Screw _

“Picked my Screw date yet, Nanny?”

Nando looks up from his phone, on which he may or may not have just been engaged in some vaguely pining Instagram searching. Rhodey is reclining on his bed across their room, and Touille sits cross-legged on the end of it.

Nando pockets his phone, then pretends to be deep in thought. “Mm… I’m thinking about it.”

Rhodey flashes a proud grin and remarks, “I picked yours.”

“Already?” Nando’s stomach turns a little. He wonders who Rhodey picked. He wants to do Winter Screw, sure— but he’d be remiss to say there isn’t someone who’s already sort of been on his mind lately. He feels like it would be awkward to go on a blind date with someone who  _ wasn’t _ that person.

But then again, he should broaden his horizons. You never know what can happen. Also, he met that guy at a party one (1) time and now he’s been thinking about him very frequently, which is pretty much all you need to know about how much of a gay disaster he is.

Plus, he trusts Rhodey. He thinks. Mostly.

“Yeah, dude,” Rhodey replies. “Easy as pie.”

They’ve gathered in the room to hang out before heading to the Haus, for one of Nursey and Chowder’s mandated ‘small team gatherings’. They nabbed a big win against Dartmouth last night, but after the long bus trip home, Nando is pretty sure no one on the team (including himself) is up for a massive rager tonight.

Except maybe, like, Louis. But Louis is always up for partying.

Rhodey turns his attention to Touille. “Dude,” he says, “if you and Nando get in cahoots, just know I wouldn’t be opposed to going with Francis.”

Touille rolls his eyes at the ceiling. “First of all, I already picked his date—” Rhodey gasps like he’s been shot. “— and second, for the millionth time, Francis is  _ straight _ , dude.”

“Yeah, so is spaghetti, until it gets hot and bothered.” Rhodey winks, and Touille smacks himself in the face. “I’m just kidding, dude. Just know that if your roommate has a gay awakening, I’m probably a prime suspect.”

“I hate you,” Touille announces.

Rhodey kicks him.

Nando realizes, at this exchange, that he probably should be getting on the ball about Screw. If Rhodey and Touille have both already done their roommate duties… that means most people probably have. Which means dates are getting taken up. Which means if he waits much longer… there won’t be anybody left.

Nando needs to get his shit together.

He’s going to find someone and be a good roommate.

*

_ 5 Days Until Winter Screw _

In his freshman seminar two days later, the Lord sends him a gift.

In the form of the girl who sits two seats adjacent from him. She’s cute— tall but definitely not taller than Rhodey, with a white-people tan and dark brown hair straight as a pin. She’s always wearing the same pair of pretty gold earrings, and today, she opens up her laptop to get ready. She’s always organized; she has notebooks in bright colors, and her laptop is covered in aesthetically coordinated stickers.

Nando notices it by accident. He’s looking at her stickers, because you can really learn a lot about a person from their stickers. There’s a  _ Life Is Good _ sticker with a black dog on it, a Bible quote in artsy font (“she is clothed with grace and dignity”), a cluster of flowers.

And then… the jackpot. The girl has a sticker that says “home”, but the O is in the shape of Rhode Island.

Huge celly.

Nando is at least ninety percent sure her name is Gina, because he’s heard the professor address her in class before. But the other ten percent of him is terrified of calling this poor girl by the wrong name, so he subtly gets the attention of the girl who sits between them. “Uh— ‘scuse me?”

The other girl looks up. “Yeah?”

Nando gestures across her desk and speaks in a whisper. “Her name… it’s Gina, right?”

She nods, so Nando takes a deep breath and speaks in his normal voice again. “Hey, uh… Gina?”

Gina looks up. She wears a friendly smile. “Yeah?”

“Do you have a date to Winter Screw?”

Gina shakes her head, with slight intrigue creeping into her expression.

He can do this. He can be a good friend. “How’d you like to go with my roommate?”

“Hm.” Gina pauses. “Is he cute?”

Nando chuckles a little. “Yeah, sure. But don’t tell him that, ‘cause it’ll inflate his ego.”

“Is he nice?”

“Yeah, he’s nice.” Nando pauses. “He plays hockey and guitar, and I promise he’s not an asshole.”

Gina takes a moment, like she’s thinking, then shrugs, flashes a grin, and reaches across the seats to shake Nando’s hand. “Cool. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

*

_ The Day of Winter Screw _

Nando isn’t nervous.

He wakes up on the day of Winter Screw with a little ball of adrenaline in his stomach, and it doesn’t go away all day. Rhodey is  _ amped up _ , practically bouncing on the soles of his feet as they go from breakfast to Faber for a home game and then back to their room.

Nando dons what could be referred to as a nice outfit— a sweater, not a sweatshirt, a nice wool one in red that isn’t itchy, with khaki pants that cuff at his ankles and his favorite pair of clean high-tops. He even puts on a knit winter hat, to preserve his warmth against the cursed New England cold. Rhodey, who, by the way, is dressed to the nines like a fighter pilot or something, hands him a green felt circle and a safety pin. “On your shoulder,” he tells him. “It’ll help you find your date.”

Nando, in turn, gives Rhodey a ridiculous yellow headband, one that matches perfectly with the one he passed to Gina’s roommate in what felt like some kind of Winter Screw drug deal yesterday at Founders.

Rhodey slides on an entirely unnecessary pair of sunglasses. “Showtime, baby.”

On their way out of the dorm, they cross paths with Touille, who, as it turns out, does have somewhere to be tonight— but it has nothing to do with a Screw date. Bully, he explains, invited him to some kind of Winter Screw counter-party, with a bunch of other people who are single and very much not ready to mingle. He seems in good spirits, and Nando grins after him as they part ways by the Bridge.

“That’s wholesome,” he mumbles, and Rhodey nods.

“Facts, bro.” He jostles his shoulder. “Are you ready?”

Nando tries a grin. “Yeah, of course.” The truth is, he’s a little jittery. But he’s not nervous. This is nothing to be nervous about. It’s going to be a fun night… right? It’s not like it’s a date with a total stranger.

Maybe it isn’t a total stranger. Maybe Rhodey set him up with someone he knew. But then again, he didn’t check to see if Gina knew Rhodey, which he’s ninety-nine percent sure she doesn’t. And isn’t that kind of the point? Isn’t it about getting outside your comfort zone?

Who knows?, he tells himself, as they cross the Bridge and head for the Haus. Maybe he could meet the boy of his dreams tonight.

_ God, you need to stop being so dramatic. _

The Haus is hopping. Technically, Louis explained to them at that team breakfast that feels like it was a month ago, Screw happens all over campus, but the sports teams are big proponents of hosting actual social gatherings where dates can hang out, so the guys said they tend to convene as if it were a kegster. Which, honestly, it probably is. Louis will find any excuse to host a kegster.

Nando takes a long breath as they walk up the stairs. He isn’t nervous. He really isn’t.

He just has to get through finding his date. That, he reasons with himself, will be the hardest part. Then he can hit the ground running, and— and he won’t have to keep overthinking this anymore.

The Haus ground floor is crowded, but it’s distinctly different from the chaos of your average frat party. Right down to the music, it’s a bit tamer. They’re received at the door by Dex and Nursey, who are each dressed up; Dex is even wearing a tie.

“Oh, good,” Dex says. “You guys are the last ones.”

“Dude, is this fancy?” Nando ducks his head. “Is there, like, a guest list?”

Nursey laughs. “ _ Chill _ , Nando. There’s no guest list. Dexy was just anxious to make sure everyone was here before we left.” He pinches his boyfriend’s elbow, and Dex yelps out a laugh.

Nando grins. “Are you guys going out?”

“Well,” Nursey says, “since we’re seniors, he’s finally getting around to taking me to Winter Screw.”

Dex snorts. Nursey adds, “We’re just getting dinner off-campus.”

“ _ Oh _ !” Nando wants what they have. He’s idolized them since the moment he accidentally saw them being lovey-dovey at Annie’s in October. “I hope you guys have fun.”

Dex smiles gently. “Thanks, Nando.” He looks to Nursey, whose grin back at him is positively lovestruck. “You ready?”

“Never more ready,” Nursey replies, and with a quick goodbye, they’re out the front door.

Once they’re gone, Rhodey shakes his head and tuts. “Simps.”

“ _ Dude _ .” Nando raises his eyebrows. “They’re cute together.”

“Oh, well,  _ yeah _ ,” Rhodey replies. “But they’re also whipped as fuck.”

Nando laughs and scans the crowd in the room, which, while not ginormous or screaming, still intimidates him all of a sudden. It’s the second time in less than two weeks he’s been intimidated by a party crowd. He gives himself a pass for the Halloween party, because he was still down in the Nate dumps, but tonight he really doesn’t know what’s gotten into him.

Maybe it’s just because he knows there’s a boy somewhere in that crowd who’s waiting for him.

He’s going to combust.

_ Okay, first, find Gina.  _ He looks for a yellow headband, and surprisingly, it doesn’t take much at all to find her. He wonders if he should tip Rhodey off, but Rhodey seems to see it at the same time he does. Gina is hovering by the couch but not touching it; she’s searching the room, but doesn’t look uncomfortable, which is, thank God, a great sign.

“Yooo,” Rhodey says. “I spy a yellow headband.”

Nando nudges him in the back with a grin. “Go get ‘er, dude.”

Rhodey wheels around on his heel and finger-guns him. “You’re the best. Have fun! I know for a fact your guy is in this room.”

Nando’s stomach knots with nerves. He tries not to show it on his face, and waves to Rhodey. “You have fun, too.” He pauses, grins, and adds, “But not too much fun.”

“No promises!” Rhodey sings, over the buzz of the crowd, and Nando lingers on the outskirts to watch the moment he and Gina meet. He hopes it’s magical. Full of Rhode Island camradie and joy.

She’s facing away from him, and Nando watches him flag her down. “Hey, uh… yellow headband!”

Gina looks over her shoulder, then seems to do a double take. Her eyes widen, and she beams. “ _ Ben Shaley _ ?”

“No fucking shit,” Rhodey yells. “Gina Amacetti.”

Nando blinks.

_ Oh my God, they know each other _ .

He watches them hug, and they laugh as they exchange words he can no longer hear. They knew each other! How did they know each other? Is it a good thing or a bad thing that he gave Rhodey a Screw date who he already knew? He takes off his hat and runs his hand through his hair.  _ God _ , he hopes they have a good night.

He should have known. They’re from  _ Rhode Island _ . It’s like two square miles.

Some Bruno Mars song comes on as he stares at the hat in his hands. It’s Samwell red, and matches his sweater; Mama bought it for him when she realized how cold he was getting on a regular basis. He wears it to most games now, with his suit. It’s starting to become a superstition, a lucky charm.

Maybe it’ll help him get lucky tonight.

_ Okay.  _ He exhales and stuffs his hat back on his head.  _ Game time. _

He weaves through people slowly, carefully checking everyone’s shoulder for a felt circle that matches his own. Most of the people in here, he realizes, are already paired off— a guy and a girl with matching bowler hats are chatting up a storm; two guys wear lime-green wristbands fit for an eighties workout video; a girl and an androgynous person have temporary butterfly tattoos on their faces. At least, Nando really hopes they’re temporary.

His date has to be in here, right? What if he’s  _ not _ ? What if there was some miscommunication, and somewhere else on campus, there’s this poor, random guy sitting around with a green circle on his shoulder, waiting for his dumbass date who thinks he’s in the Haus?

He shouldn’t have parted with Rhodey before he found his date.  _ Ugh.  _ He’s an idiot.

_ Okay, Nando. Don’t freak out. _

_ You can do this. I can do this. _

He weaves a little more through the crowd, and he’s about to give up and go find Rhodey for help when he realizes two things: a.) Rhodey and Gina are no longer in the spot he left them, and b.) there is a green circle on a shoulder by the kitchen door.

Oh. Nando breathes a sigh of relief. Thank  _ God _ . He peers between people and makes his way toward the guy. He can see part of his torso, including the felt pinned to the arm of what looks like a peacoat, but he doesn’t get a good look at his face until the masses clear a little.

Nando does a double take.

Looks his date up and down.

Does not celly in the middle of the crowded Haus.

But he  _ does _ internally shout for joy. Because he knows this face, knows this figure. And the last time he saw it, it was in Halloween party lights, laughing at his bad jokes and chirps, in a Glee costume.

“Quinn?”

Quinn’s head shoots up. He’s sure a fish out of water in the Haus, all right, and even his clothes show it, even when everybody else is dressed up. But holy  _ fuck _ , does he look cute. Recognition flickers on his face, and with it comes a little smile, a relieved look in his eyes. “Sebastián?”

Nando nearly trips over his own feet making the rest of his way over to him, pointing to the circle on his shoulder. He proceeds to do what he does best around cute guys: he forgets how to English. “It’s— it’s  _ you _ !”

“Yes, it’s me.” Quinn gets just a little guarded, and he pauses before adding, “Is… that a bad thing?”

“No!  _ Shit _ , no, of course not.” Nando shakes his head, puts a hand over his face for a second.  _ Get your shit together.  _ “It’s good. It’s—  _ very _ good that it’s you.”

“Oh, good.” Quinn’s smile returns, and he reaches for his sleeve. “And now I can finally take this thing off.”

Nando laughs as he watches him remove the felt circle from his peacoat. “Is it messing up your outfit?”

“Well, it didn’t exactly go,” Quinn replies matter-of-factly, which is true. He’s in dress pants and a button-down, with a knit scarf that looks ridiculously cozy, and shiny Oxfords. It’s a far cry from his Halloween costume, but somehow it suits him just as well, like he was born to wear this specific outfit. Nando… needs to take five. He’s too gay to function. It’s— it’s  _ cute _ . God, he’s even cuter than he remembered.

Nando unpins his own circle, and tucks it into his pocket. Quinn fiddles with his scarf a little, lets off a breath, and says, “When Denice told me to come to the Hockey Haus, I’ll confess I had a hunch I’d been set up with a player.” He pauses. “I, um. I was trying not to let myself get my hopes up.”

“Get your hopes up?” Nando grins from ear to ear. “Does that mean you were hoping it was me?” He leans against the wall next to him, and in the two weeks it’s been since they met, he’s somehow forgotten  _ just _ how much he towers over him. Not only that, but Quinn is  _ skinny _ — he has to be a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet.

Nando is… he’s into it.

He could be in trouble.

Quinn tucks his hands into the pockets of his peacoat. It’s charcoal gray, and it looks perfectly tailored to him. “I’ll confess I’d hoped that, yes.”

“ _ Wow _ .” Nando can’t stop smiling. “I must’ve gotten lucky, ‘cause I’ve been wanting to see you again ever since Halloween.”

Nando has no idea when he got smooth. Did Rhodey possess his body for a second there?

“Oh.” Quinn is smiling, too. He has rosy cheeks. “Have you?”

“Of course I have.” Nando pauses. “I was kicking myself for letting you get away without, like, getting your social media or something.”

“Hm.” Quinn tilts his head to the ceiling. “I guess now you have your second chance.”

“Provided you feel like giving it to me at the end of the night.”

Quinn laughs. “I suppose.”

Nando realizes, terrifyingly, that he has little to no game plan. He probably should have thought this through. Do people plan out their night at Screw? Rhodey didn’t say he had anything planned, but then again, Rhodey is probably planning on doing some real actual screwing. He should have gone to someone else. The seniors, maybe. Or Hops and Louis.

Here he is, set up on a blind date with the cutest boy he’s met at Samwell, and he’s being a gay disaster.

“I… have to tell you, Sebastián,” Quinn says, suddenly, a bit more serious now than the laughing banter of before, “I’ve… never been on a date before, and I know the  _ name _ of this event implies, ah, certain things, but I—”

“Oh— Quinn.” Nando shakes his head. “Don’t— I know what you mean, and don’t worry, okay? I’m… not interested in the hookup thing.”

Quinn exhales audibly. “Oh, thank God.”

“Yeah. No. Definitely not,” he says. “I was a little spooked by the ‘screw’ thing, too. But if you’re down for it… I’d totally be up for just spending the night hanging out.” He pauses. Quinn has never been on a date before. That is simultaneously adorable and hard to believe. Who wouldn’t take him on a date?

Nando is going to show him a good one. “If you want to, that is,” he adds. “Because I had, like, a  _ lot _ of fun at Halloween. With you. That is.”

He wines internally at himself, but Quinn nods steadily. In the low lighting of the Haus, his eyes are ocean blue, and Nando is going to drown. “I would very much like that.”

“Oh.” Relief washes over him. “ _ Cool _ . Swawesome.”

“There you go again with ‘swawesome’.” In Quinn’s voice, it sounds like a word in a foreign language he can’t pronounce. Given that the rest of his speech is so formal, it’s a funny thing to behold. “You really are a hockey player.”

Nando shrugs, and for a split second he remembers how to flirt and everything. “I hope you don’t mind being seen with one.”

Quinn tilts his head like he’s thinking about it. When he’s quiet for a second, he remarks, “I don’t mind if it’s you.”

Nando’s entire stomach is a butterfly farm.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” he asks. “The Haus, I mean. We can go to the cafe. I’ll buy.”

“Oh, I’d  _ love _ that,” Quinn replies.

Winter Screw is no longer a terrifying thought.

*

The cafe is a little crowded, full of paired-off people just like them, but they talk the whole time they wait in line, so it goes by just like that. Quinn gets a hot tea, and Nando, because he is physically incapable of avoiding it no matter the season, opts for iced coffee, which actually gets him  _ chirped _ .

“At eight o’clock at night?” Quinn asks, as he’s pulling out his student ID to pay. “In November?”

“Quinn, I’m gay,” he replies. “It’s part of my brand.”

Quinn laughs into his hand. Nando eyes the bakery case next to the register, then adds a giant chocolate chip cookie to their order, because, like, why not.

He’s scoping out for a table while they wait for the drinks, but it’s crowded in here, and he spots Quinn out of the corner of his eye fiddling with the volume on his hearing aids. So he waits at the counter, scoops up their order, and passes the tea to him, then tilts his head toward the door. “Are you opposed to finding somewhere to sit that’s not in here?”

Quinn nods. “I’m not opposed to that at all,” he replies, so they head out into the brisk evening air. The iced drink in his hands feels like a bad idea almost immediately, but it’s going to taste good, so it’s okay. It has vanilla creamer and everything.

He is such a sucker for iced coffee.

“I heard they were having a bonfire by the Pond.” Quinn leans into him a little as they walk side-by-side. “Do you want to go in that direction?”

“Sure, yeah.” A bonfire is a good idea. Nando doesn’t want either of them to develop frostbite on this date. According to Rhodey earlier tonight, it really isn’t  _ that _ cold, but it’s like forty Fahrenheit, and for Nando that might as well be below zero.

He does miss the sun.

“So…” He looks to Quinn, who has both hands around his cup, and looks so fucking cute in all his formal bundle that Nando might combust. “Was Rhodey in touch with your roommate?”

Quinn shakes his head a little, eyes on his shoes, and then looks up and says, “I… don’t have a roommate, actually. I have a single.”

“ _ Yo _ !” Nando grins. “That’s cool.”  _ He _ likes living with another person, especially with Rhodey, who, despite being, well,  _ Rhodey _ , is his best friend, and a great roommate. But he can also see the appeal of having your own space, especially your freshman year. “How’d you get that deal?”

“There’s one single per floor in Wilson,” Quinn says, which Nando knows is true, because the one dude on his floor in room 103 doesn’t have a roommate. “It’s a true single, so it’s half a room. I don’t have a whole double to myself.” He pauses a moment, then adds, “For me, it’s medically mandated.”

“ _ Oh _ .” Nando pauses. He’s not sure, suddenly, if it’s offensive to ask, but he does anyway, because Quinn was the one who told him he could ask about his hearing aids in the first place. “Because of your ears?”

Quinn nods. “I’m deaf,” he says. “Can’t hear a thing without these.”

He doesn’t sound offended— just like he’s sharing information as casual as the color of his eyes or his hometown. So Nando continues down the path. “Do you know sign language?”

“I do.” Quinn pauses. “Although it turns out most people here don’t. Not that anyone at home really does, either.”

Nando doesn’t know a stitch of sign language, but all of a sudden he wants to learn.

They walk side-by-side onto Lake Quad. Sure enough, there’s a bonfire going on the Beach, and there’s a healthy amount of people gathered around it. “C’mon,” Nando murmurs, motioning for him to follow.

They make it down to the Beach, far enough away from the bonfire people that they don’t become part of whatever modest gathering is going on, but close enough to garner some of its light and the faintest bit of lingering warmth. An empty bench by the water looks promising, so Nando brings them that way, and when they sit, he can’t help noticing the fact that Quinn sits right next to him despite the ample room on the bench for him to space himself out.

Okay. This is going well.

He’s functioning through a whole heap of gay panic, and that’s a big win, honestly.

The Pond isn’t frozen, but it looks like it’s well on its way to that. Chowder was telling him recently, ‘from one West Coast person to another’, that shinny— pond hockey— is one of his favorite SMH traditions. Nando is looking forward to it.

He looks to Quinn, who’s mid-sip of tea. He ordered camomile, which sounds very proper and fancy, and somehow Nando knows it suits him perfectly even when this is only his second time meeting him.

“Do you like living alone?” he asks.

Quinn pauses for a moment, swallows, and thinks. “For the most part,” he says. “Having my own space is nice. I know it’s what’s best for me.” He pauses, then adds, “But it can get… well, not necessarily  _ lonely _ , since I still live in a hallway with plenty of other people, but it was hard. At first. To find people to spend time with.” He takes a little breath and tugs at his scarf. “Because having roommates gives you an automatic person to eat with, or to walk to class with, or sit in the common room with…” He shakes his head. “It was… an adjustment. But I really don’t mind being alone.”

“Well, I live in 133,” Nando replies, before he can stop himself. “So if you ever need someone to hang out with…”

Quinn smiles faintly. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “That’s kind of you.” The firelight flickers a shadow across his face, and he pauses for a moment before looking back up at him. “But to answer your question from the walk over here, Denice handled setting me up with you.”

“ _ Ohhhh _ .” Rhodey must have gone to Ford to find Quinn. He should thank him, later. He’s now realizing that his being set up with him for Screw is a direct result of Rhodey’s observation (and subsequent chirping Nando’s ass off) about their night spent together at Halloween. “That makes sense.”

“So that’s why I had a small hunch,” Quinn adds. “That my date was a hockey player.”

Nando grins a little. “And you were hoping it was me.”

“Well.” Quinn’s face is set in a gentle smile. “I suppose so.”

“You  _ suppose _ so,” Nando laughs. “Well, I can share with you now that  _ I  _ was hoping I’d get  _ you _ , so.”

“Oh?” Quinn looks amused. “And what led you to that aspiration?”

“I told you.” He smiles. “I had a great night at Halloween.”

Quinn takes another sip of tea before responding. “So did I.”

Nando tries his coffee. It’s delicious, but it feels like it might freeze his insides. It’s the things we love that hurt us most.

And then, looking down at him, he’s unable to suppress the urge to say something before it comes out of his mouth. “You look really nice tonight, by the way.” Quinn looks up, and he adds, “Like, really great.”

_ That’s a boring compliment _ , his brain says, but all Quinn does is smile. “Thank you,” he replies. “So do you. It’s nice to see you out of a costume.”

Nando raises his eyebrows. “Oh, really? According to you, I wasn’t wearing a costume.”

Quinn laughs. “I guess that’s true. But still.” He pauses, keeps that slightly self-satisfied smile, and sweeps his eyes over Nando a little. Nando has never wanted a guy to look at him more. He really hopes he looks okay, that Quinn isn’t just humoring him. “You do look nice,” Quinn says. “I like your hat.”

“Oh— thanks.” He crosses his eyes to look up at the very edge of the stocking cap. “My mama got it for me.”

He realizes this sounds kind of lame out loud, but Quinn doesn’t bat an eye. “You have school spirit.”

Nando shrugs. “I’m a school athlete. It’s, like, low-key required.” He pauses. “And by the way, on the topic of cozy things, that scarf looks  _ hella  _ comfy.”

“Oh, thank you.” Quinn fiddles with the scarf, tucking it neatly into his coat, and says, “I knit it myself.”

“No way!” It looks straight off a store shelf, gray and white in a yarn that looks soft. “You and Ford— er, Denice— you guys should have, like, a knitting date. She makes sweaters.”

“I’ve seen her work, I believe.” Quinn pauses. “If Tony’s ‘Tango’ sweater is any indication of it.”

“Oh, yep. That’s it.” The Whiskey/Tango/Foxtrot sweaters are an enigma. It’s especially funny when Whiskey breaks his out. The Whiskey at Samwell is different than the Connor Whisk he knew from hockey clinics at home in Phoenix— he’s just a little more laid-back. “I think Tango gets the most of her knit creations. He’ll wear a sweater around like he’s just waiting for someone to ask where he got it so he can say  _ my girlfriend made it _ .”

Quinn chuckles. “They’re a sweet couple,” he says. “I think Tony is the only athlete the drama club trusts.”

“Oh.” Nando puts a hand on his chest in betrayal. “I see how it is.”

Quinn rolls his eyes. “I never said  _ I  _ don’t trust you. I just know the drama club.”

“Is this, like, scandalous, then?” He gestures between the two of them. “Going to Winter Screw with a hockey player. Is it like the Jets and Sharks?”

Quinn’s eyes widen, half fascination and half joy. “A musical theatre reference from a hockey player,” he remarks. “Maybe you really  _ are _ different.”

“I know  _ West Side Story _ ,” Nando says, which is true, but he doesn’t mention that he only knows it because he was made to watch it in music class in high school. He liked the movie, and that’s what matters. He cups his non-coffee-holding hand around his mouth and shouts, toward the rippling black surface of the Pond, one of the only lines he recalls from it. “Come and get me, Chino!”

Quinn laughs, and Nando very much wants to believe that the red in his cheeks is for a reason other than the cold. “Wow, impressive,” he replies. “I was tech on a production of  _ West Side Story _ one summer in high school. I almost auditioned, but I chickened out.”

“Aw, how come?”

Quinn shrugs a little. “I was a freshman.”

“Don’t let that stop you.” Nando pauses. “Are you gonna go out for the spring musical here? It is spring, right?”

“I’ll probably audition,” Quinn replies. “Although I’m not so sure I’d get cast.”

“Never say never.” Nando tries a very gentle nudge to his shoulder. Quinn doesn’t recoil or duck away. This is a good sign. It’s a very good sign. “Like, I didn’t think I’d be playing much as a freshman on the team, but I’m the second-string d-pair.”

Quinn nods like he wants to understand, but the confusion in his eyes gives him away. “I know,” Nando mumbles. “You have no idea what that means, do you?”

“Unfortunately, I do not.” Quinn pauses. “But is it a good thing?”

Nando nods. “It means I get to play.”

“Well, that’s always good.”

“Hockey’s not so different from theatre,” he adds. In truth, most of his knowledge of theatre comes from  _ High School Musical  _ and also Ford’s occasional digression into drama club drama (redundancy not intended), but it’s enough to say, “Like, we’re all a team, and we’re working for the same thing. A performance is just like a big game, right?”

Quinn nods a little. “I suppose you’re right.”

Another sip of his coffee sends a shock of cold through Nando’s system. He tries not to let it show, but he is a weak Arizona bitch who is not cut out for this shit, apparently.

He makes a mental note to ask Mama if he can buy a big winter jacket.

“I suppose it  _ is _ a little scandalous,” Quinn adds, with a vaguely sneaky smile on his face, and  _ that’s _ way more adorable than it has business being. “A theatre kid and a hockey player.”

“We could make our own musical.” Nando grins a little, then laughs when a title pops into his head. “ _ Winter Screwed _ .”

Quinn doubles over to laugh. Nando grins, and something swells in his insides that might be pride.

This is going, like.  _ Really _ well.

He should shoot his shot. Straight for the net. “Quinn, uh.” Quinn looks up. He keeps his cool. “So this doesn’t happen again. I mean—”  _ Fuck _ . “That is, so the thing that happened after  _ Halloween _ doesn’t happen again.” He takes a long breath, kicks himself in his head, and starts over. “Sorry. I can’t talk, apparently.”

Quinn isn’t laughing at him. He’s patient and attentive. “Take your time.”

“Okay.” Nando runs a hand over his eyes, sighs, and shakes it out.  _ Way to be a gay disaster.  _ “If you feel comfortable. Can I get your number?”

He’s scared, for a split second, to meet Quinn’s eyes, like maybe his idiocy alone has chased him away and lost him this chance. But Quinn says, “ _ Oh _ ,” and then he nods. “Yes, sure. Of course you can.”

“Oh, thank God.” Nando exhales. “I’m sorry I can’t talk like a normal person, apparently.”

Quinn smiles and pulls his phone from one of what seems like several different pockets in his peacoat. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he says, then unlocks it and hands it over. “Put yourself in my contacts and I’ll text you.”

“Perfect.” Nando pauses with his thumb on the screen. Quinn’s phone feels tiny in his hand. “Is this an iPhone 4?”

Quinn sighs a little. “It’s sturdy and reliable, and why would I upgrade if it works perfectly well?”

“That’s very economical.” Nando creates a new contact. “I’m… guessing you want me in here as Sebastián, don’t you?”

“Yes, please.”

Nando resists the urge to smile. He doesn’t know why he likes it so much, the real-naming by Quinn. No one at Samwell calls him Sebastián, not even his professors. “Do you want my last name in here?”

Quinn shakes his head as he types. “I don’t know any other Sebastián.”

“Swawesome.” Nando smiles fully now and hands him his phone again. His background is what looks like some kind of cast photo. Nando doesn’t look at it long enough to pick Quinn out of the group.

Quinn types something on his phone, and Nando marvels absently at the fact that while the phone felt  _ tiny _ in his own hands, in Quinn’s it looks completely normal-sized. He has long fingers, and his skin looks smooth. His hands are  _ so small _ .

Nando has never wanted to hold a hand so badly in his life.

And then— “Done,” Quinn announces, and Nando feels a  _ bzz _ in his pocket. He glances down at his phone. A number with a 616 area code has texted him a scarf emoji and nothing else. He also has a Snapchat from Touille in their cricket group chat, but it’s from an hour ago.

“Oh, perfect.” He nods with a grin as he puts his phone away again. “I think I’ll put a scarf in your contact name.”

“Oh, you should,” Quinn replies with a nod. He pats his scarf again. “I’ll happily own that as part of my brand. Like you and your iced coffee.”

Nando laughs. His coffee is mostly gone by now, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t making him kind of chilly. But he doesn’t really care. This is worth it.

It’s  _ so _ worth it.

Quinn’s hands are in his lap now, and Nando, because he can’t control himself, apparently, sneaks another glance at them. They’re curled around each other; he rubs his thumb against the back of his knuckle. They’re  _ so _ small. All of him is so small.

He likes it so much.

“Your hands are tiny,” he says, then holds up his own hand, facing flat toward him, and says, “Here.”

Quinn looks at his own hands in his lap for a second, then brings his palm up to press against his. His skin is soft and warm, and he spread his fingers out for the size comparison— and  _ holy shit _ , it’s just as big of a difference as Nando was expecting. “Your hands are cold!” Quinn laughs, with their palms still together.

“It was the iced coffee,” Nando replies, unhelpfully, and before he can even process what’s happening, Quinn takes his outstretched right hand in both of his own. He holds it between them, rubbing at his fingers, and Nando’s brain entirely turns off.

_ Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.  _ He takes a breath. Quinn doesn’t let up on the holding. “You’re shaking,” Quinn murmurs gently, holding his hand up like it’s a specimen. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” Nando replies, which is mostly true. He’s full of adrenaline, and, like, super gay, but he isn’t nervous anymore. He kind of is shaking, though. There’s no use denying that. His Southwestern idiocy has caught up with him. “Just cold.”

Quinn laughs a little. “Maybe next time,” he says, letting go of his hand, “a hot drink might do you some good.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Nando replies, and his hand feels extra cold with Quinn’s touch gone. Quinn is going for his scarf, and Nando doesn’t realize what he’s doing until it’s a little too late to stop him— he tugs it out of his jacket, unwinds it from his neck, and offers it forward, a bundle of white and gray fluff.

“Oh— Quinn, no.” Nando shakes his head, and the gay panic rises from somewhere previously dormant. “That’s yours. I can’t—”

“I have a heavy jacket,” Quinn replies. “And you’re cold. You should wear it.”

Nando is going to die of all this softness before the night is over. “Are you, uh,” he stammers, like he has a handle on the English language, “are you sure?”

Quinn nods. “I’m positive.” He reaches like he wants to hook it around his neck. “Do you mind—?”

“No,” Nando breathes, too fast, and then adds, “I don’t mind. At all.”

Quinn smiles a little. “Okay,” he says, and he tosses the scarf around his neck. It’s just as soft as it looks, and he winds it carefully, not really touching  _ him _ all that much but igniting a quick pulse in Nando’s chest anyway. He didn’t realize, until just now, how touch-starved he’s actually been. Quinn’s face is red, too, like this is causing him just as much inner calamity.

The scarf warms him up. When Quinn finishes tying it, Nando exhales. It even  _ smells _ nice, faintly of dryer sheets. “Thank you,” Nando says. “I— you didn’t have to.”

“It’s no trouble,” Quinn assures him. He pauses for a moment, then, “It looks nice on you.”

Nando needs to lay down.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, with a smile he knows probably looks bashful and soft and flustered.

He seriously can’t remember the last time he felt so  _ mushy _ inside.

He wants, he realizes, to hold his hand. And they’re certainly moving in that direction, so he’s just going to go for it. Gently, he reaches for it; Quinn has taken to resting his free hand at the side of his leg. He starts by hooking a pinky in his, and Quinn upturns his hand to welcome the gestures, so he winds their fingers together and squeezes a little.

Quinn squeezes back.

Oh  _ boy _ . Okay. Okay, he’s okay. He’s not freaking out. He’s just…

He’s so gay.

“Is this okay?” he mumbles.

Quinn smiles a little. “I wouldn’t be holding your hand if it wasn’t okay, Sebastián.”

Nando’s stomach is full of butterflies. “Sorry,” he whispers, even though he knows, logically, that he has no actual reason to be sorry. It’s just the feeling of this tiny, warm hand in his own is so  _ much _ , and he’s giddy in a way he hasn’t been in maybe forever, and he just— wow. Okay. “If I’m being weird,” he adds. “I just… haven’t done this in a  _ long _ time.”

His courting period with Nate was kind of weird, mostly taking place in summer before junior year of high school. He was brand new to dating and just tried to follow his lead, stumbling over himself, second-guessing everything.

This is nothing like that. This is  _ soft _ . This is carefree— except for the gay panic, but that’s not a genuine negative emotion.

“I’ve never done this,” Quinn confesses, sounding sheepish for the first time that Nando can recall. “But don’t be sorry. I… I like this.” He pauses, then squeezes again at his hand. Nando’s heart leaps. “I like this a lot.”

Nando exhales. “So do I,” he replies, and he can’t stop smiling.

There is something very, very good happening tonight.

*

Nando isn’t sure exactly how long they sit on that bench.

In the same way as at the Halloween party, Quinn’s presence seems to remove his awareness of time. They sit and talk for what doesn’t feel like all that long, but the bonfire crowd starts to clear out, and the light from it smolders until it’s more of a campfire.

And he holds his hand. The whole time. It’s a simple thing; he justs rests both their hands on his knee, and Quinn’s hand is so, so  _ tiny _ in his own, his thumb rubbing at Nando’s knuckle every now and then. The longer they just sit there and talk, the longer he wants this— wants to spend more time with him, to hold his hand again, to text him, to see where this goes. He spent enough time wallowing; he’s gotten over the dumps of October.

He can have this. If Quinn wants it too. He should let himself, give himself permission, to see where this goes.

The prospect of the night ending doesn’t seem real at all— he’s lost in conversation and the softness of the borrowed scarf and the pure, unfiltered joy of holding a cute boy’s hand— but when Quinn is explaining the pre-med curriculum to him and pauses mid-sentence to let off a mighty yawn, Nando realizes it must be late. There aren’t as many people milling around, and the moon is high in the clear sky, and he has no idea what Quinn’s plans are tomorrow, but he’s supposed to Skype with his sisters at ten in the morning.

He doesn’t want this night to end.

But, he tells himself as Quinn recovers from his yawn, just because Winter Screw is over doesn’t mean  _ this _ has to be.

“Ooh!” Quinn shakes himself out after the yawn. “Pardon me.”

Nando traces along his wrist. “Are you getting tired?”

Quinn frowns a little, sighs with his eyes on the ground. “I suppose a little,” he says. “But I’d hate to end this.”

He repeats his self-assurances for Quinn to hear. “Just because Screw is over doesn’t mean we can’t hang out again.”

Quinn’s frown softens back into a contented smile, and he nods a little. “You’re right,” he says. “And you have my number now.”

“Exactly.” Nando hasn’t checked his phone in hours. “And you have mine.”

They sit in silence for a moment. Nando squeezes his hand.

“I’ll walk you back to your room,” he offers, and Quinn nods, then starts to stand.

“That sounds lovely.”

The walk back to Wilson is too short. Nando holds tight to his hand like it’s a championship trophy. It might as well be, honestly. He wants people to see them walking together. He wants to do this again. And again.

He  _ has _ to thank Rhodey for this.

Quinn lives in Wilson 303. When they get up the stairs, Quinn swipes them into the hall, and they stop at his door; it’s on the corner across from the bathroom. Like on Nando’s own floor, the RA here has made door decorations with their names on them; this floor has fish bowls with little sea creature stickers on them. Next to Quinn’s name, there’s a yellow seahorse and a couple of hand-drawn bubbles. He also has a small whiteboard on his door, which, right now, is wiped clean.

Quinn lingers by the door for a moment, tucking his hands into the pockets of his peacoat and taking a deep breath. When Nando meets his eyes, he realizes that he’s still wearing his scarf, so he unwinds it in a hurry and says, “Oh, here. Sorry.”

Quinn laughs as he takes it. “It’s okay,” he replies. “It really did suit you.”

Nando smiles down at him. He is  _ so short _ . He wonders if it’ll ever get old.

“I had a great night tonight,” he murmurs.

Quinn nods. “So did I,” he says. “I’m— I’m very glad it was you, tonight. I can’t imagine I’d have had as good of a time with anybody else.”

“Me, neither.” Nando knows, in his heart, that he isn’t getting a kiss or anything like that— but what he  _ does _ get is a hug, a good one that gives him an excuse to squeeze him tight. He really,  _ really _ likes the way he feels in his arms.

“Text me, okay?” he tells him, as they pull away. “I’ll make your contact right now in my phone.”

“Of course I’ll text you.” Quinn pauses. “We could get lunch this week. If you’d like.”

Nando is going to do a full celly as soon as he gets back to his room. “I’d love that.”

“Okay. Good.” Quinn smiles, gently, softly, and then reaches for the handle on his door. He swipes his card, and it unlocks with a click. “Goodnight, Sebastián.”

Nando is a  _ winner _ tonight. He gives him a little wave. “Night, Quinn.”

Quinn slides sideways into his door, waving back, and Nando turns to go, but waits until it’s clicked shut again before he actually starts down the hall. As soon as Quinn has disappeared into his room, he turns on his heel, digs his phone out of his pocket, and walks and types at the same time.

First, he makes Quinn into a contact in his phone. As he promised, he puts a scarf emoji next to his name. He debates texting him right away, then decides he’ll at least restrain himself until he gets back to his room.

He leaves the third-floor hallway, then thunders down the stairs in a hurry, soft all over and still racked with the adrenaline that apparently comes with demonstrating basic affection. It takes him two tries to swipe into his hall, because he does it too fast the first time, but once he gets the door to unlock, he throws it open and  _ bolts _ down to 133. It occurs to him as he goes to unlock the door that this  _ is _ Winter Screw, and that Rhodey could be in here with Gina— but then again, there’s nothing hanging on the doorknob, and Rhodey didn’t text him any heads-up. So if there’s funny business going on in his room right now, he cannot be blamed for interrupting it.

Also, he wants to yell to Rhodey about his night, so he kind of hopes he’s not preoccupied.

He unlocks the door, prays not to see a breast, and pushes it open.

“ _ Eyyyyyy _ , Nanny!”

Nando walks inside. Rhodey is here, all right, but he’s not alone. Gina is with him— they’re not in any compromising position, just chilling on Rhodey’s bed; his arm is around her and they’re leaning into a stack of pillows. But what’s more unusual is that Touille is also here, sitting in the chair at Rhodey’s desk. All three of the people in his room grin at him as he enters, and Rhodey, the source of the shouted greeting, says, “There’s our favorite casanova.”

“Hey, guys.” Nando stations himself at the edge of his mattress, leaning against it, and tries to play it casual. “What’s up?”

“Dude,  _ spill _ ,” Touille says. “What happened?”

“What do you mean what happened?” Nando looks between him and Rhodey, and waves to Gina on his way by, who gives him a friendly wave back.

“Like,  _ what happened _ ?” Rhodey waggles his eyebrows. “Did you secure the bag?”

Nando glances at his phone. “Well, I got his number.”

Touille pumps his fist at the ceiling. “Let’s  _ gooooo _ , Nanny!”

“You were out until, uh—” Rhodey checks his watch. “ _ Three in the morning _ , and all you got was his number?”

“It’s three in the morning?” Nando gapes at his phone; Rhodey is right.  _ Holy shit.  _ “I… had no idea I was out that long.”

“Bro.” Touille is grinning like a little shit. “You lost track of time. You must be in  _ love _ .”

“Oh, shut up, Rem,” Nando mumbles, but he knows his face is turning warm. “What are you doing in my room, anyway?”

Rhodey snorts. “Roasted.”

“I’m sexiled,” Touille grumbles, then rolls his eyes. “Francis is nasty.”

“Eww, you guys,” Gina laughs.

“Sorry, Gina,” Touille says.

She shakes her head. “You’re forgiven.”

“So…” Nando sits on the edge of his bed, kicking off his shoes. “What have you guys been doing the whole time?”

“Waiting for you,” Rhodey replies. “But also we were watching  _ X Files _ .”

“Oh, God.” Nando shudders. He hates that show. “I’m glad I wasn’t there for that.”

“ _ Dude _ .” Rhodey leans forward and ruffles up his hair a little. His bun is still in, but there are pieces falling out. He looks like he’s had a great night. “You have to tell us about your night.”

Nando feels like he’d be embarrassed at another time. But tonight, he’s soft. He came back here with the very intention of shouting to Rhodey about how good it had gone.

So he sits back in bed and entertains them with the story. Reliving it makes him very warm and fuzzy inside.

Before he goes to bed, he sends off a text.

_ thank you again for a great night!!!!!!!!! :):):) i can’t wait to see you again soon! _

The response comes instantly.

_ Quinn: Thank you very much too. It was lovely! _

_ Quinn: And I can’t wait to see you either. (: _

Nando is  _ so _ ready for what’s next.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey, [come hang out](https://sincerelyreidburke.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! You'll be seeing more of this series. Plus, feel free to [ask/say/send anything](https://sincerelyreidburke.tumblr.com/ask) about the crickets! Thank you very much for reading.


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